lesleyjonesberry

I left St Paul’s Cathedral at about ten minutes to 8 after a service of Choral Evensong, followed by a mindfulness session and the opportunity to walk the labyrinth installed under the dome:  the Chartres design printed on heavy canvas and large enough for perhaps a dozen people at a time to walk on.  Each of us journeyed slowly to the centre, rapt in our own impressions and feelings.   The dome receded above us towards the heavens; Christ gazed at us, triumphant and golden, above the high altar to the East; the saints and prophets surrounded us with their exhortations to faith.  I hadn’t spoken to anyone for over two hours. There were many people there, sharing the experience, and occasionally we’d had to make necessary social acknowledgements: on arrival and leaving, and negotiating a passing point on the labyrinth route.  These murmurings weren’t really words or speech and the blanket of silence had absorbed them easily, without disturbing the peace  Leaving the building and walking into the gentle summer evening brought a contrast of light and noise – even on this quiet city evening – so, to acclimatise myself back to the outdoor world, I decided to walk a little, along to the next station before I went down to the purgatorial Central Line.